When
she returned with a slip of stamped paper, Harry called to me to come
to the writing-table.
"Now, my sweet," he said, "see how easily money is to be got with a
scratch of the pen."
I looked, over his shoulder. In less than a minute it was done; and he
had produced ten thousand francs on paper--in English money (as he told
me), four hundred pounds. This seemed to be a large loan; I asked how
he proposed to pay it back. He kindly reminded me that he was a
newspaper proprietor, and, as such, possessed of the means of inspiring
confidence in persons with money to spare. They could afford, it seems,
to give him three months in which to arrange for repayment. In that
time, as he thought, the profits of the new journal might come pouring
in. He knew best, of course.
We took the next train to Paris, and turned our bit of paper into notes
and gold. Never was there such a delightful companion as my husband,
when he has got money in his pocket. After so much sorrow and anxiety,
for weeks past, that memorable afternoon was like a glimpse of
Paradise.
On the next morning, there was an end to my short-lived enjoyment of no
more than the latter half of a day.
Watching her opportunity, Fanny Mere came to me while I was alone,
carrying a thick letter in her hand.
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